PART 5

That evening, Graham came to my cottage again.

This time, he didn’t knock once.

He knocked three times.

Slowly.

Respectfully.

I opened the door.

He was standing there alone.

No Paige.

No excuses.

No brochure.

No paperwork.

Just my son.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

He entered.

Then he did something he hadn’t done since he was a little boy.

He hugged me.

I stood still for a moment.

Then I wrapped my arms around him.

He cried into my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

I closed my eyes.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He pulled away.

“You don’t know how ashamed I am.”

“Graham—”

“I treated you like furniture.”

I didn’t answer.

“I didn’t ask what you wanted.”

He wiped his face.

“I just decided what would be easiest for everyone else.”

I nodded.

“And I never realized that you were quietly preparing to leave.”

“I wasn’t preparing to punish you.”

“I know.”

“I was preparing to live.”

He nodded.

“I understand now.”

Then he looked around the cottage.

“Is this where you wanted to be?”

I smiled.

“Yes.”

He looked at the yellow kitchen.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thomas would have liked it.”

He smiled through his tears.

“Dad would have loved it.”

We sat together for almost an hour.

He didn’t ask about the money.

That mattered.

Finally, he said:

“Mom, I want to tell you something.”

“What?”

“Paige and I have been fighting.”

I remained silent.

“She wants to know exactly how much you have.”

I already knew.

“She says we should ask you for help buying another house.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think we need to solve our own problems.”

I looked at him.

He continued.

“I don’t want your money.”

My heart tightened.

“Graham…”

“I mean it.”

He reached into his pocket.

He pulled out a small envelope.

“I brought this.”

I opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

It was old.

Very old.

It showed me, Thomas, and Graham standing beside a lake.

Graham couldn’t have been more than eight.

On the back, Thomas had written:

The three people I love most.

I looked at my son.

“Where did you find this?”

“In Dad’s old fishing box.”

He smiled sadly.

“I thought you should have it.”

I held it against my chest.

“Thank you.”

Then he said:

“I want to earn your trust again.”

“That won’t happen in one day.”

“I know.”

“Maybe not in one year.”

“I know.”

“But you can start.”

He nodded.

“How?”

“Don’t promise me anything.”

He looked confused.

“Then what should I do?”

“Show me.”

He nodded.

And that was the first time I believed he might actually understand.

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART….